Sacred Mushroom of Visions Read online

  Even the scientific study of consciousness, long considered out of the question in mainstream psychology or cognitive science, is coming into its own again. The radical empiricism philosophy formulated by William James over one hundred years ago provides an appropriate epistemological framework for the systematic study of subjective experience. Radical empiricism is “empirical” in that all knowledge is based on observation, i.e., experience; and it is “radical” in that no experiences are excluded from the field of study (James 1912/1996). Thus, this book, like the ayahuasca book, contributes to the developing database, so to speak, of experiences with visionary mushrooms by giving the descriptive accounts of experiencers in their own words. A second stage of scientific study would be to identify patterns in these experiences to see how they can be related the objective, material world. In this book we therefore also provide an overview of what the objective natural and social sciences (ecology, biology, chemistry, pharmacology, anthropology, and psychology) can tell us about these remarkable organic and spiritual beings and their profound impact on human consciousness.

  THE KINGDOM OF FUNGI—EVOLUTION AND PSYCHOACTIVITY

  Older biology texts, with their two- or three-fold division of the realms of life (single cells, plants, animals) arranged in the form of a tree with humans at the crown, often lumped mushrooms together with plants. This model is obviously anthropocentric: it erroneously equates evolution with “progress” and implicitly promotes a vision of Homo sapiens as superior to all other life forms—the “crown of creation”—by virtue of greater complexity of organization, and by virtue of coming later in time. But as Darwin had already noted, it is misleading to speak of “higher” and “lower” evolutionary forms, if this implies some kind of superior adaptation. Instead of the image of a ladder or tree with many branches, the evolution of species is now more accurately portrayed in the metaphor of a bush or multi-trunk tree. Stephen Jay Gould, in his book Wonderful Life, writes that “life is a copiously branching bush, continually pruned by the grim reaper of extinction, not a ladder of predictable progress . . . not the conventional tale of steadily increasing excellence, complexity and diversity” (Gould 1989). Or, in the most succinct definition, evolution is changing adaptations to changing conditions.

  The new view of evolution, as now generally given in textbooks and accepted by leading biologists, involves a five-kingdom taxonomy first proposed by Robert Whitaker and described in detail by the microbiologist Lynn Margulis in the book Five Kingdoms (Margulis & Schwartz 1982). Instead of the image of the tree of life, Margulis uses the image of a hand with five fingers: the monera (bacteria) form the base of the hand and the thumb; the protoctista (water-dwelling microbes primarily), the palm of the hand and one finger; and plants, animals, and fungi (multi-cellular organisms), the three remaining fingers.

  This model shows that each of the five kingdoms still continues to this day, with many successfully adapted life forms. The most significant division in this new taxonomy is between the prokaryotic (lacking a true nucleus) monera, the oldest organisms on Earth, and the eukaryotic (with a true nucleus) single-celled protoctista (and all subsequent multicellular forms). Margulis is one of the prime proponents of the theory that the simple bacteria evolved into eukaryotic organisms (which are generally much larger) by endosymbiosis—by incorporating themselves into larger, more complex cells and continuing their evolution as parts of the larger whole (as well as independently). From these eukaryotic cells evolved all other multicellular forms of life, including plants, animals, and fungi (Margulis 1998). This kind of evolution by incorporation, or symbiogenesis, may well provide a long-term model for human survival.

  The three kingdoms of larger organisms have evolved characteristically different life cycles and ecological strategies for obtaining energy. Plants produce and grow: with chlorophyll-containing cells they capture sunlight (photosynthesis), convert it to the carbon compounds that nourish all animal life, and release oxygen that is then used by the aerobic animals. Animals (including the human kind) consume and move: they obtain nutrient energy from feeding on others, exchange the carbon dioxide they excrete for the oxygen produced by plants, and develop complex capacities for movement that symbiotically aid in the propagation of plants and fungi.

  Fungi (which includes yeasts, molds, and mushrooms) absorb and decompose: they do not ingest food, they absorb minerals and other nutrients from the environment after breaking them down (decomposing), then secrete and transport complex chemicals out to plants with which they are in symbiotic association. An example is the mycorrhizal association between many species of fungi and the roots of trees, which association is fundamental to the ecological viability of forests. The sub-soil mycelial net is really the primary body of these fungi, with the mushrooms being the sexual organs that release billions of spores into the environment. Some mycelial nets, forming a single organism, have been found to be hundreds or even thousands of square miles in extent—making them by far the largest organisms on Earth.

  Some fungi, like plants, are food sources for humans, either directly, as edible gourmet mushrooms; or indirectly, like the yeasts and molds used in the production of beer and cheese. Like plants, fungi may be poisonous and cause disease in plants or animals, or they may be medicinal. An example of the latter is the antibiotic penicillin, derived from a mold. Lynn Margulis writes: “various fungal strategies for survival include the production of complex organic compounds, such as the ergot and amanita alkaloids, which can induce hallucinations or even death in mammals” (Margulis & Schwartz 1982, p. 146).

  We are touching here on the fascinating question of the ecological role and evolutionary origin of the psychoactive or visionary alkaloids found in plants, fungi, and even (rarely) in animals. The Amanita genus of mushrooms contain several extremely poisonous species, as well as the inconsistently hallucinogenic Amanita muscaria, or fly agaric, which played some role as a visionary adjunct in Siberian shamanism. This is the spectacular red mushroom with white spots, familiar to us from fairy tales, folklore, and myth—and which Wasson and some others believe played a central role as soma in the Vedic religion of ancient India (Wasson 1968; Heinrich 1982).

  Ergot, a parasitical fungus of the genus Claviceps that grows on rye, barley, and other grains in Europe and the Middle East, was the cause of ergotism: hallucinations, burning sensations, gangrene, convulsions, insanity, and occasionally death. In Europe during the Middle Ages, outbreaks of ergotism, also known as “St. Vitus’ Dance” or “St. Anthony’s Fire,” periodically infected whole communities that had eaten the infected grain. Ergot derivatives have oxytocic (stimulating uterine contraction) properties and were (and are) used for that purpose in obstetrics. Ergot is also the source of lysergic acid diethylamide, the most potent hallucinogen known, and as such may have played a role in the Eleusinian mysteries of Ancient Greece (Wasson, Ruck & Hofmann 1978).

  In this book we do not deal with the amanita or the ergot alkaloids, both highly complex subjects in their own right. However, the question of the evolutionary origin of psychoactive, visionary fungi also arises in regard to psilocybe mushrooms. We have surviving traditions going back hundreds, perhaps thousands of years, of shamanic spiritual healing, diagnosis and clairvoyant divination with these inconspicuous-looking mushrooms. These mushrooms don’t have sufficient toxicity, or even confusing hallucinatory effects, to deter any potential predator, so why did they evolve the capacity to produce hallucinogenic alkaloids? From a strict Darwinian perspective, of course, we don’t ask the question why; we just look for adaptive strategies. The mycologist Paul Stamets (1996) has suggested that since humans and other animals readily and unconsciously carry microscopic spores around, perhaps the visionary psilocybe mushrooms have evolved symbiotically with humans—taking advantage of humans’ interest in them to propagate themselves. This is the same ecological strategy used by fruiting plants that package their seeds in delicious fruits desired by humans and other animals.

  So we have subs
tances that, under certain conditions, cause poisoning and disease; in other forms they are used medicinally; and in certain other forms, by inducing divine visions they may have played a central role in the origin of certain religious traditions. While the production of toxins by a plant or fungus can be understood as a survival strategy, preventing it from being consumed by animals, it is more difficult to see an evolutionary strategy in the induction of religious visions in humans. Bright abstract pattern hallucinations could be confusing to an animal, thus, like a toxin, deter further attack on the plant or fungus. But insight and religious ecstasy? Perhaps our understanding of evolution and the symbiotic interactions between human culture and nonhuman nature needs to be reexamined.

  Scholar-scientists not committed to a strict, reductionist Darwinian interpretation of evolution, including Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, have suggested that the evolution of plant and animal species involves ever greater complexity as well as consciousness (what Teilhard called the within of things). In an earlier essay (Metzner 1968), I suggested that if we assume that evolutionary processes are accompanied by development of a greater range of consciousness, perhaps consciousness-expanding substances play a role as a kind of evolutionary instrument or gnostic catalyst. This would account for the worldwide and historically documented role of plant- or fungus-based visionary substances in traditional systems of transformation, including shamanism, alchemy, and yoga (Metzner 1999). The independent scholar-philosopher Terence McKenna has taken this line of speculation a step further, proposing in his book Food of the Gods (McKenna 1992) that psilocybe mushrooms, with their perception-enhancing and consciousness-expanding properties, may have symbiotically contributed to the growth of language and therefore culture in early bands of hunter-gatherer hominids. We will discuss his ideas further below.

  MUSHROOM SHAMANISM IN ANCIENT AND INDIGENOUS MESOAMERICAN CULTURES

  Although “shamanism” is a term derived from the Siberian Yakut culture, it has come to refer to any of a group of practices that involve going into an altered state of consciousness for the purpose of healing or divination (Harner 1973). The psilocybe mushrooms have apparently been used in shamanistic ceremonies in Mesoamerica for hundreds, perhaps thousands, of years. Contemporary patterns of usage of the mushroom among indigenous communities in Mexico, although long unknown to Western science, are consistent with the use patterns for ayahuasca in South America, peyote in North America, and iboga in equatorial Africa: they are used ceremonially for obtaining spiritual visions of the land of the dead and for communing with the spirits of the natural world for healing and knowledge (Schultes and Hofmann 1979).

  Miniature mushroom stones, some dating back to 1000 B.C.E, have been found in the lands of the ancient Maya in Guatemala, Ecuador, and Southern Mexico. Long misidentified, these are now understood as effigies of a mushroom deity: they may have a human or animal (jaguar, bird, monkey, hare) figure or face under the huge overshadowing mushroom cap. The pleated skirt on the one shown in the picture on the following page probably indicates a female deity, and the nine-point starburst around the head suggests a flower with radiating leaves, or the radiance of flowering visions induced by the mushroom. Finds of mushroom effigies in the tomb of Mayan nobles suggest an association with the Lords of Xibalba, deity rulers of the land of the dead, as described in the Popul Vuh.

  Among the Spanish friars in sixteenth-century Mexico, the Franciscan Bernardino de Sahagún devoted himself to recording extensive descriptions and testimonies on the culture, history, and religion of the native peoples. The testimonies, recorded in Nahuatl and Spanish paraphrase, were preserved in numerous handwritten volumes known as the Florentine Codex. Wasson suggested that because Sahagún came from a family of Jewish converts in Spain, he perhaps had more instinctive sympathy for the conquered natives. In any event, his attitude, though pejorative, also had a certain kind of detachment and objectivity.

  Among the otherwise meager material on mushroom use, there is one description of a mushroom ceremony that stands out: it describes prophetic visions that individuals had of themselves and others, including visions of their own death. The text begins by describing how the group of people came together to eat mushrooms: the blowing of a conch, fasting, except for taking chocolate and honey with the mushrooms, some dancing, some weeping, or sitting quietly (Wasson 1980, p. 206):

  Stone effigy of Mayan mushroom deity, dating from 300 B.C.E. Height: 33.5 cm; from El Salvador. Probaby female (skirted), the figure has a nine-point star halo and radiates beneficence. (Rietberg Museum, Zürich)

  One saw in vision that he would die, and continued weeping. One saw in vision that he would die in battle; one saw in vision that he would be eaten by wild beasts; one saw in vision that he would take captives in war; one saw in vision that he would be rich, wealthy; one saw in vision that he would buy slaves . . . one saw in vision that he would commit adultery—he would be stoned; one saw in vision that he would perish in water; one saw in vision that he would live in peace, in tranquility, until he died . . . However many things were to befall one, he then saw all in vision. And when the effects of the mushroom had left them, they consulted among themselves and told one another what they had seen in vision. And they saw in vision what would befall those who had eaten no mushrooms, and what they went about doing. Some were perhaps thieves, some perhaps committed adultery. Howsoever many things there were, all were told—that one would take captives, one would become a seasoned warrior, a leader of the youths, one would die in battle, become rich, buy slaves . . . provide banquets, be strangled, perish in water. Whatsoever was to befall one, they then saw all in vision.

  So here we have an account of classical visionary experiences in the form of divinations about one’s own future and that of others. Those familiar with entheogenic experiences and practices will understand that these visions should not be considered undesirable effects of a drug or fungus. The visions one has are a function of the “set and setting,” the intention or purpose of the ceremony; in other worlds, we must assume that the Aztec mushroom-eaters sought out those kinds of precognitive visions intentionally. Clearly, the experiences described in this informant’s account are visions anticipating one’s death, as might be found in the traditions of ancient mystery cults, or in contemporary research on “near-death experiences” (NDEs). Similar deathbed visions can be found in some of the experiences described in this book. They bring the individual to an enlarged and compassionate perspective that is informed by acceptance of one’s own mortality.

  Some of the visions described in the account are precognitions of one’s future life-path—to be a merchant, a warrior, a “leader of youth.” Others are healing visions that may be called “course corrections”: here a person foresees the consequences of present bad actions, such as thieving, adultery, and so forth. These accounts are consistent with those described in the research with hoasca in Brazil, where subjects report seeing in vision the eventual consequences of their behavior and are thus enabled to move on to a road of recovery (Grob 1999). Interestingly, the Nahua account also includes mention of a kind of integrative discussion after the mushroom ceremony—very much in accord with the kinds of healing and divination sessions that contemporary seekers arrange.

  R. G. Wasson, in his marvelous book The Wondrous Mushroom—Mycolatry in Mesoamerica, has pointed out that “flowers,” botanically unspecified, are a huge recurring theme in Nahuatl poetry. He explains that for the Nahua poets and singers, “flowers” and “flowering” or “dream flowers” referred to the visionary experience induced by teonanacátl mushrooms. “The flowers took them to another world . . . a world that they called their Tlalocan, a world of strange and wondrous beauty, where they reveled in sensations beyond imagining.” (Wasson 1980). Hence the poets would speak of “inebriating flowers” and “songs that inebriate,” pointing to a quality of the mushroom experience often remarked on by inner space explorers: their ability to stimulate creative expression in voice, song, and poetry.


  Xochipilli—Aztec “Prince of Flowers” in ecstatic visionary trance. Fifteenth century C.E. (Museo Nacional de Antropologia, Mexico City; photo by Christian Rätsch)

  The lovely songs come solely from His house,

  from within the sky;

  Solely from His house come the lovely flowers.

  (WASSON 1980, P. 83)

  It was Wasson too, who first identified the famous Aztec deity known as Xochipilli, the “Prince of Flowers,” as the deity of ecstatic mushroom trance. The remarkable seated figure, dating from the sixteenth century and now in the Museum of Archaeology in Mexico City, wears a mask with hollowed-out eyes, his face lifted upward with a fixed gaze. This is a depiction of a man in ecstatic trance. His feet are crossed, toes curled, hands held lightly above the knees at the level of the heart. All around the base of the figurine as well as on his body are images of various flowers, including the hallucinogenic morning glory (ololiuhqui), and mushrooms in profile. This deity is a kind of Mesoamerican Dionysus, a god of rapture and inebriation. Wasson writes: “Here is the work of a master, a supreme carving of a man in the midst of an unearthly experience, the formal hieratic effigy of the God of Rapture, the God of Flowers (as the Aztecs put it): the god of youth, of light, of the dance and music and games, of poetry and art; the Child God, the god of the rising sun, of summer and warmth, of flowers and butterflies, of the ‘Tree-in-Flower’ that the Nahuatl poets frequently invoke, of the inebriation mushrooms” (Wasson 1980, p. 59).